The Angel's Circle
by AnnaGhost94
Summary: The beginnings of the Circle: Jocelyn is pregnant and she and Lucian are beginning to doubt Valentine, who is as focused as ever on ridding the world of all Downworlders. Latest chapter relates Lucian's first transformation...
1. Chapter 1

**I've never written a fic for Mortal Instruments before, but…this one is about Jocelyn and told from her point of view, before the books, set after Valentine and Jocelyn marry but before Luke is turned into a werewolf. A typical Circle meeting of the old days.**

**AN: Sorry if the characters seem a little OOC, you have to remember valentine had them all in his thrall, also that they were very young and Jocelyn was a new wife in love and everything…still, sorry if you think It didn't work.**

The Angel's Circle

We meet in the dining room of the Morgenstern manor these days. It makes me laugh to think of how we began-seventeen years old, that tiny bunch of misfits and firebrands crowding into empty classrooms or crouching in the duelling hall after dark, our clandestine genius illuminated only by candlelight. To think we've come so far…I'm twenty years old now, just, and I've been married to Val for about a year and a half. By the Angel, I still barely know how I could have been so lucky. I mean, I didn't even used to like him. I was scornful of Lucian's adoration of him, I thought whatever they did in their stupid little gang was just pompous and self-important, if not dangerous. When Valentine asked me out the first time I must have been about fifteen, and I turned him down with a kind of triumph. I don't think he'd ever been rejected before and the icy rage I saw in his eyes, those beautiful black eyes, was like nothing I'd ever seen before, demons or not, because Valentine Morgenstern was just a human boy, a teenager like me, and all I'd done was say no.

He must have been seventeen when he lost his entire family. I was sixteen, and right then, that day he came back to school, something had changed. I just _saw_ him differently-this boy who looked just the same, tall and broad-shouldered, with the arrogant tilt to his chin, that amazing white-blond hair that fell into his dark, unfathomable eyes sometimes-it was only later he started keeping it cut short as a soldier's-seemed to shine with a new, brighter light. The red marks of mourning on his skin were like blood and his face seemed older, less carefree, less cocky-there was kind of defiant pride there, a refusal to be crushed, a strength born of surviving the loss of all he cared for. The first day he returned I caught his eye just for an instant and I was held, like a fly in a web, unable to look away. He stared back at me with a kind of wary anger-_this is me, Jocelyn Fairchild, this is who I am and I will not be ashamed of it. Do you want me or not? _That was what I imagined him saying. And I thought, in that moment, desperately-_yes, oh yes. I do_.

Their 'gang' as I'd called it, expanded, became more intense, gained a true name, the _Circle of Raziel_. An arrogant name for a teenager's organisation, but it had a sort of delirious thrill to it we couldn't resist. Val and I were going out by then and every day was a new joy, a new exhilaration. We were partnered to hunt a demon once, I remember, and tracked it through a forest somewhere in Spain, together, spending the nights of the hunt lying on the ground staring up at the stars, just the two of us, relating old childhood memories. When we finally found the thing we fought it together, a Ravener, vicious and nasty. I remember it almost got me once with that massive great stinger, and if Val hadn't pushed me out of the way in time I would not be here now. We jammed our seraph blades into its heart at the same moment and leaped free as it writhed and shrieked into oblivion, and then turned to look at each other, grinning, flushed with success. It was then that I noticed that he was bleeding-when he had saved me he had fallen hard against a tree and gashed a long cut right up his arm. He said nothing, of course; it had always been his way to ignore such mundane considerations as pain-but I made him sit down and bandaged it up, trying not to let him see how my fingers ached to linger on his skin, how I wanted to kiss the pain away, take it on myself-I was afraid to show him the depths of my obsession for him.

And now here we are, married. I'm sitting here at the long oak table below the dancing chandeliers, and he's making his way down the stairs, I can hear him, and very soon the rest of the Circle will be arriving for the meeting, and I'm delirious with happiness, because of what I suspect…I did not bleed this month yet, and this morning on waking I was sick. I hardly dare hope, but…to hold Val's child in my arms-I can only pray.

I go to the door to admit the first arrivals, and standing on the steps before me are Maryse Trueblood, an old friend, despite her haughty, cold manner, and with her Robert Lightwood, an enormous bear of a man, though handsome, who rarely speaks, though when he does it is always to say something vital. "Maryse!" I cry, kissing her on the cheek. "Come in, you're the first to arrive. How are you, Robert?" He nods briefly, but Maryse drags me aside just for a second and whispers swiftly, her cheeks flushed with an uncharacteristic girlish joy-"We're getting married!"

I'm amazed, overjoyed. I glance to Robert who gives me a small smile of confirmation, and I give a cry of pleasure. "Oh, Maryse! That's fantastic! When's the wedding?"

"A couple of months," she tells me, pressing a hand to her mouth. She must be happy-she never shows her emotions like this. "Robert's got some business to take care of at the Moscow Institute first, but after that…"

"What's this?" comes Val's voice from behind. "Cause for a celebration?" We both turn and there he is, my wonderful husband, elegant and powerful in his clinging black gear, his head cocked to one side almost mockingly, arms folded. I glance to Maryse and she lifts her head, all trace of frivolity suddenly gone at the sight of him-she is businesslike, professional, alert. "Myself and Robert here are getting married," she tells him, eyes glittering. His face lights up in a brilliant smile. "But that's wonderful! You and Jocelyn can swap stories!" He draws closer and shakes hands with Robert, then kisses Maryse on the cheek-I hear him whisper to her and my heart clenches with excitement: "It fills me with such joy, seeing two such close friends finding their happiness." I don't understand how anyone can be more perfect that my husband-my soul yearns for the day when I might tell him, bursting with joy and certainty, that I am pregnant with his child.

The next to arrive is Lucian, tapping in his old self-conscious way against the already-open door to alert us to his presence. He's tall and skinny as ever, with untidy brown hair and shy blue eyes-we grew up best friends and my heart lifts with joy now to see him, when I am already so happy. He will always be like family to me.

"Good evening," he says, smiling at me. "I'm not late, am I?"

"You're the third to arrive," I say, and Val interrupts; "And since the first two came together we can count them out, can't we? How are you, Lucian?"

"I'm fine," he says. "I hardly need to ask you, do I? You all look…delighted about something."

He's so sweet, so shy, so polite. He's always been like that. I know I'll always love him like a brother-he's the person second most dearest in the world to me, and the most trustworthy I know.

…

Only minutes later we're all present, seated around the big oak dining table. Val is at the head, of course, with me, honoured, at his right hand. Lucian, since they are _parabatai_, is on his left, beside the smiling Stephen Herondale, who is holding hands with his lovely wife Amatis, Lucian's sister. I'm placed next to Maryse, herself beside Robert, and on his other side is Hodge Starkweather, fingers stained with ink, eyes small and nervous, darting around as if he's afraid. Michael Wayland, a cheerful, intense, clever boy, is on Hodge's right, eyes lit up with his customary bright spirit. Beyond that are ranged the other members of the Circle, eyes all turned to Val. We all know that we're no longer playing, that we're a powerful party in the Clave now, that this is serious. Val is no longer smiling, but looks professional, beautiful, intent.

"Friends," he says, his deep, powerful voice echoing around the dimly lit chamber, penetrating every nook and cranny, hypnotic in its conviction, even with one word. "We have much to discuss, but I have called you all here today to decide what to do about the problem of the vampire clan in north Idris. Three mundanes disappeared near their lair over the past months and I think it's fairly obvious what happened to them."

"Did you contact the Clave?" Stephen asks, his rich voice beautiful, but less moving, less persuasive that my husband's. Val sighs theatrically.

"They're worse than ever. Sitting tight, terrified to risk breaking the Accords, refusing to listen. They say there's no proof the vampires are behind this. But we all know what their attitude on these matters is. Once again, friends, we must take this into our own hands."

"The Clave's being ridiculous," Maryse says in her clipped, soldierly voice. "I understand their position on banishing the Downworlders from Idris, though I don't like it, but even they must see that this is a real breach of the Accords."

"That's what we thought when we brought the problem before them," I interject, remembering with scorn the pale, smug, frightened faces of the Clave when my husband and myself went before them three days ago. "But they won't listen or see sense."

Val speaks up again and at once there is silence. "I propose to lead a hunt up there and take them down before anyone else gets hurt. If the Clave isn't prepared to do anything about this then I am." He looks around the table, eyes glittering, head uplifted, powerful and beautiful as a god. It takes my breath away. "Who's with me?"

I don't hesitate-I am the first to speak. "I am." He awards me a smile that makes my heart soar up to the skies.

"I am," Lucian says swiftly, echoing me. And then everyone at the table is volunteering, even Celine, who's the youngest there and so shy and eager and speechless at every meeting, and I know we won't all be able to go but I'm just so exhilarated by this amazing show of support, of love. Who can help loving Val, really? So wonderful, so strong, so charismatic, with such genius-I'm just lucky that I'm the one he chose to love in return.

It's as everyone is leaving and preparing to await Val's final decision on the exact identity of the raiding party that I notice Lucian looking downcast, uncertain. I touch his shoulder, concerned. "Are you all right?" I ask him, my oldest friend. He raises his head and his blue eyes are troubled, almost guarded.

"Jocelyn," he says softly. "Why are we doing this?"

I'm amazed. _Lucian_ voicing these doubts? It makes no sense-he's the _last_ person I'd expect. "The vampires are killing mundanes," I tell him intently. "Didn't you listen?"

"But are they?" he says unhappily. "I'm sorry, I know he's your husband but the only proof of that is Valentine's word. And why would they break the Accords now? It makes no sense…"

I'm shocked, afraid, angry. "Lucian. Are you suggesting that he's lying?"

"No," he says uncertainly. "Just that maybe he's mistaken…"

I've heard enough. "You know what, Lucian? If you're getting cold feet now there's no-one forcing you to come along. You don't have to act like you've found some kind of moral high ground just to get out of fighting."

He looks horrified. "Jocelyn, you don't really think-I just mean-what if they're _innocent_?"

I turn away in disgust. "What more d'you want, Lucian? Mangled bodies?"

"Better that than killing innocents," he mutters almost too quietly to hear. I pretend not to have-I hold my head high and stride away.

It's purely coincidental. But that's the first night the nightmares come. I'm lying there in the dark and I hear a kind of inhuman, horrific screaming bouncing off the walls around me, and I think I wake, shaking. Val's gone, I can't find him, and I'm alone in the dark with that _screaming_-I've never heard anything like it. But after what seems like a long, long time it fades and I slip uneasily back into sleep-

Just a nightmare, though. Sure, like nothing I've dreamed before and definitely more terrifying, but what else could it be? The next morning when I wake Val is lying there asleep and looking like a beautiful, innocent angel on the pillow beside me, the faint white scar on his left cheek gleaming like a medal of honour in the faint light and the sun is streaming through the windows of the manor and I feel nothing but joy and anticipation. It was just a nightmare, and there's a precious secret inside me-I can _feel_ it-that needs nothing to do with the horrors of a Shadowhunter's imagination.

I turn and shake my husband awake. "Hey. Hey, Val-I've got amazing news."

I can continue this if anyone's interested but it also works as a oneshot, so…

**I hope you liked it and I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me a review and let me know what you thought, honestly, even if your opinion is negative!**


	2. Chapter 2

Yay I finally have a second chapter of this! Still Jocelyn's POV but now I know it'll be a multichapter story-maybe 5 or 6 chapters altogether?-I think I'll do some in Luke's as well later, cos I just love Luke! Anyway…

Chapter 2:

This is going to be one of my last active hunting missions for a very long time. It's early days yet but I've asked a warlock friend of mine called Ragnor Fell to look me over, and he's confirmed what Val and I suspected. I'm pregnant. One month so far. And I've never been so happy in my life-there's a new person growing inside me, a real human being with a future and a soul and soon a beating heart and so much to live for-and it's because of me, me and Val made this magic, we created a whole tiny person and in eight or so months then I'll meet him or her for the first time…

I can't wait!

Anyway, I can't risk the baby. So after this hunt and maybe one or two more I'll put my shadowhunting duties on hold and take care of myself. My mother always used to say I never knew when to stop pushing myself, that I should accept I was only human-but she meant in terms of not spending my nights painting till the dawn because in daylight hours I had no time to do anything but train as a Shadowhunter. Suddenly now the idea of stopping, of standing still, is just right, because I'm not just safeguarding myself. There's someone else inside me who I have a higher duty to protect.

I come downstairs in my close-fitting black gear, a seraph blade and a sword in my belt and as many ampoules of holy water as I can cram into my pockets. Val meets me in the entrance hall with a kiss and the proud, brilliant grin he keeps on giving me, has done ever since I told him he was going to be a father.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asks me. It's got to be the only time he's ever suggested not taking on a mission, and I'm amazingly touched that this concession so far from his nature is for me and our baby. I smile.

"Yes. I'll take good care of it."

He laughs then, running his hand through my long red hair and making me sigh with pleasure. "Not just the baby. Take care of yourself too. _I'm_ certainly not letting you out of my sight."

"I am an adult, Val," I point out. "And a Shadowhunter, and not a bad one. I can handle myself, sweet gallant hero though you are."

He nuzzles close to me, pressing his face into the soft side of my throat. "I'm not risking anything now," he whispers. Once I would have thought he just had to control everything, including me-now I know he really does care for me, so I let his overprotective ways go this time. I twist my face away, knowing that if we get too affectionate now I'll never want to leave the house. "Come on, we should get moving."

"You're going to leave me hungry?" he calls after me, mock-mournfully. I laugh, glancing back flirtatiously.

"Starving."

Val and I meet Robert, Maryse, Lucian and Stephen outside the house-the best of the Circle, is what my husband chose for this mission. Hodge Starkweather, who located the vampires for us as well as researching what he could about their identities and habits, waves us off a little sadly: I don't know anyone with more knowledge crammed into their heads than he has, but he is definitely no field agent. It's a day-and-a-half's ride to Arkadale Cave, where the vampires have made their lair, and we mount up and go trotting off into the dawn together, fearless and ready. Lucian is quiet and preoccupied: I haven't spoken to him since we fell out over his doubting Val a few days ago and I think he's still hurt. I ride over and try to start up a conversation, feeling guilty. He is my oldest friend, after all.

"Feeling confident?" I ask. He shrugs and I find myself rolling my eyes. His shy, wary, sullen manner is just so _typical_. He's twenty, like me, but sometimes I think he's still ten.

"Oh come on, Lucian. You can't still be-"

"What?" he interrupts quietly. "Trying to do the right thing?"

"Lucian-can't you trust him like you always did? What's wrong with you?"

He straightens his head then, making a visible effort to master himself. "Oh, nothing. Just feeling a little down, I guess. Sorry. So-I heard the amazing news?"

I feel my face brighten automatically, as if the joy that consumes me at any mention of my pregnancy and my child has already filtered into my every physical reaction. "You did? Yes-I'm going to be a mother!"

And he's smiling, a little sadly I think at first, but I must be imagining it. What is there for him to be sad about, after all? "Well, you'll make a fantastic mother, Jocelyn," he tells me firmly. "Your child's lucky. So lucky."

…

Arkadale Cave looms up before us through the darkness, a mouth into hell. Night is falling-we were delayed a few hours by Robert's horse injuring her foot-and as we watch through the branches of the nearby bushes we can see a couple of graceful figures stepping out of the shadows of the cave, stretching, catlike. I have Val on one side of me and Lucian on the other, and I feel tense and shivery with expectation. Val glances at me, asking me silently if I'm ready-I nod, barely perceptibly. He gestures towards the cave, then towards our circle, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Does he not even want to wait and watch, just to ensure that we have got this right? I cock my head to one side, trying to get this across. He shakes his head and jerks his neck back, telling us all to retreat so we can talk and Mark ourselves before going in.

We gather a kilometre or so away from the cave-it should be far enough out of range of the vampires' supernaturally-enhanced senses. Val and I Mark ourselves with healing iratzes, as well as the runes for stealth, speed and sight in the darkness, and I can see the others doing the same, Robert paired with Maryse, Lucian with Stephen.

"Right," Val says, when we're all ready, our skin covered in swirling black tattoos ready for battle. "According to Hodge we're dealing with six vampires here. Lucian and myself go in to try and draw them out. The rest of you wait right outside the cave and take them down as they run."

"Shouldn't we wait and spy them out?" I put in. "We need to make sure we're right about them."

"It's not necessary," Val says without even turning to look at me. "We're right. Trust me." And I just do, instinctively, because his voice tells me to. It's what we do-we _trust_ Valentine Morgenstern, especially me.

…

I hate the first part. If only I could have gone in with Val and Lucian…but I know the plan and they _are_ parabatai. Thing is, I could be parabatai with either one of them-I'm as good a Shadowhunter, and I'd die for them both. But I was too late…I'm crouching in the bushes beside Stephen Herondale, everyone's golden boy; all the Shadowhunter girls who aren't in love with my husband are in love with Stephen. It's the luck of the draw, I guess.

"Jocelyn," he whispers now. "I never congratulated you. About the baby?"

Again that brilliant grin lightens my face. "Thanks, Stephen. It feels amazing, I can tell you that…"

"I'll let Amatis know," he laughs. "She's worried about morning sickness if she gets pregnant."

I grin. "Well, I won't say I don't get it…but tell her it's worth it. She's not felt anything yet?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. But we're young still."

"Shh!" Maryse hisses from beside us, and we go quiet, waiting.

It's only a few minutes later that I hear running footsteps, and I tense, creeping forward towards the edge of the cliff above the cave mouth. At that moment Val and Lucian come racing out, taking me by surprise: Lucian is bleeding from the arm, I see, but it doesn't look serious. Stephen, Maryse, Robert and myself leap down from the edge we're hidden on just in time to block the five or so vampires chasing Val and Lucian-in a second Maryse has pulled her knife through the closest one's throat, making him fall to his knees and bleed out in a matter of minutes. I'm flinging holy water and seeing them steam and burn before my eyes-we're winning, we're doing fine. The battle doesn't last long: we've surprised them and they were not ready. I turn to see Val finishing off the last vampire, and what I see makes my breath clog my throat, and I want to throw up.

He's pinned the vampire, a young man with long black hair, to the ground with two seraph blades through his hands, as if he were crucified. He's kneeling across the writhing, spitting body, and he's carefully pouring holy water into the vampire's mouth, in such quantities that the youth is choking on it, steam pouring from the inside of his windpipe, body convulsing violently as he desperately fights the agony he must be in. "Val," I try to say, but my voice is a mere croak-suddenly I can't believe that this is my husband sitting there torturing this vampire to death. "Val, stop-"

"Valentine," Lucian echoes me, stepping forwards. He looks white and tired and stricken, and the blood pumping out of his arm is coming more heavily than I thought. "Valentine, finish him."

Val looks up and smiles faintly, calmly. It's the kind of smile that would not be out of place at a civilised Victorian dinner party, except that he's kneeling on the ground over the tormented body of a bleeding, burning vampire. He holds out his blade to Lucian. "Would you like to do the honours?" he asks. Lucian strides across, swipes the blade from his hand and stabs the vampire through the heart, swiftly and without hesitation, killing him instantly. Val stands up, brushing the blood from his gear. "We'll burn the bodies," he says. "Lucian, Jocelyn, why don't you check the cave, just in case?"

We glance at each other, reading the same shock and sickness in each other's faces. The others seem unmoved-is it just because I don't know them as well as I do Lucian, or do they really not see all that was wrong in what Val just did? It was the heat of battle, I tell myself feverishly. People get carried away…

I keep on repeating the words to myself as I follow Lucian into Arkadale Cave, desperately, but I keep seeing the youth's white, bloodless face, twisted in a scream of agony, spattered with his own froth and blood. Every time I lose my eyes it's there.

**Reviews are inspiration, I hope you liked it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter posted, I really am. I wrote that I was sort of on hiatus on my profile, but basically-I'm really sorry! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! Thanks for sticking with me!**

Chapter 3:

Lucian and I walk in silence through the damp, thick-smelling darkness of the vampires' cave, both of us somehow shocked beyond belief. Val's like that, I remind myself. He'll go to any lengths to fight for what he believes in, that's one of the things I fell in love with about him…

But it just wasn't _necessary_ to do that. If he had to kill the bloodsucker then I understand that, we all do it. We're Shadowhunters. But he was torturing that young vampire to death, without any provocation…I've seen him torture demons for information before, and once a werewolf. Even that can be hard to watch, but it's necessary. It makes sense, right? What Val just did…that was torture for the sake of it, because he could and because he wanted to see the vampire's pain…and I can't find any excuse for it, however hard I try.

"Are you all right?" Lucian asks me after a long silence. I nod tightly.

"Yeah. You?"

"I will be." He's completing the iratze on his shoulder as we walk, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Even as I watch the cut on his arm is closing. I want to say something, I want to ask him how Val could have done something like that, whether I'm overreacting, whether he can reassure me…I want to be reassured. I want everything to be okay…but I'm not a child any more, and I have to pull myself together. I manage to hold my head high and concentrate once more as we round the corner into the vampires' inner sanctum. I don't know what I'm expecting. Bloody corpses, mangled remains, maybe. But instead we've intruded on a round chamber with delicately chiselled stone walls, elegant red and gold sofas scattered around, old portraits of beautiful men and women, maybe vampires, gazing down severely from the walls, a couple of candles the only illumination. It's completely deserted, but I feel my heart leap into my mouth as Lucian and I enter.

"Lucian-no prisoners."

He looks grim and cold, as I've never seen him. "No."

I can hardly bear to voice the horror inside me. "You think…you think there ever were any?"

Vampires keep prisoners, that's the thing. I've been inside lairs filled with cages stocked with shell-shocked mundanes and darklings, winter forage for their captors. But here, within Idris, there's nothing. It's almost as if these vampires have been keeping the Accords after all…and the idea is terrible right now.

Lucian doesn't look at me. "I expect so. I expect we're, uh, too late."

But he's lying. I never knew when Val was lying, but Lucian I could always read like an open book. And right now he's lying to try and protect me from the horrific truth. That there never were any prisoners, that the vampires never broke the Law, that the Clave was right, that Val could have lied about this…

I know he hates Downworlders. It's understandable, right? They killed his father. But this…

"I don't believe it," I say wildly. "I don't believe it…" My hand goes to my mouth and I bite down hard on my knuckle, trying to control myself. Lucian's mouth twists, and he comes to me and puts his arms around me, holding me tightly just to let me know he's there, my head resting on his shoulder. He smells of blood and sweat and leather and books. It's such a familiar smell…it anchors me, gives me something to believe in. I grew up with that smell.

"It's all right," he tells me intently. "It's all right, Jocelyn." But he can't reassure me with empty words-I always needed facts, solidities, reality. Not useless nothings like this…because if Val really did lie about this then I don't know what to think, and neither does Lucian, and we can't bluff that away.

Finally I pull away, flicking the stray strands of red hair out of my eyes and setting my mouth. "It was a mistake," I say determinedly. "Just a stupid mistake. And the rest…people get carried away. Even Val's only human. He lost it and I bet he'll be feeling awful about it already." I fight to believe in my own words-already I feel slightly steadier. Lucian nods slowly and his eyes have that sad look again.

"All right, Jocelyn," he says quietly. "I'm sure you're right. You know him best, after all."

…..

I'm lying in bed and imagining I can feel the baby kick inside my womb. I know it's too early, I know that really of course I can't, but I'm certain I can feel the spark of another life within me, a life joined to mine but infinitely its own as well. I stare up into the darkness and I concentrate on that spark, concentrate on imagining my child, boy or girl, fair like Val or red-haired like me, with dark eyes or green…a whole life that I'm going to bring into this world. I begin to relax, begin to put the horrors of the past few days out of my mind. I'm drifting off to sleep when suddenly I'm startled into wakefulness by something that is, so obviously it chills me to the bone, a scream.

I sit bolt upright. My hands cradle my stomach as if to unconsciously protect my unborn, barely-formed child from a menace I don't even understand. I listen-the silence roars in at me and panic fills my stomach. Nothing. Nothing-

And then again, a long, drawn-out scream from the bowels of the manor, so far away it could be breaking from hell itself. It's unmistakeable, and it's real-faint, but even so I can hear it's note of pure, driving agony, the way it rises and falls in sheer torment, then trails away into nothingness, voice and strength spent. I hug my knees, terror pulsing through me-I reach to the side to feel for Val's hand.

Nothing

He's gone.

Now I'm so afraid I can feel myself beginning to hyperventilate-a black open pit of terror has opened within me and my hands are shaking as I fight not to be dragged down into it. Fool! I rage at myself. Are you really so weak, such a coward? You're a Shadowhunter, and a Fairchild, and you are not just going to sit here and cry like a stupid child! My pride gives me strength: I swing my legs out of bed and stand, fumbling through the darkness to the bedroom door. Pulling it softly open, I step into the thin beam of light and through into the hall. "Everything's okay, I've got you, I've got you," I catch myself crooning to the child within me, as if to reassure it. I step forwards. The scream again, wild and tearing through the halls of the manor, shattering my heart. I don't understand. I don't want to try to. I don't want to search-I'm afraid of what I might find.

But I have never been one to let fear destroy me.

I move on. As I creep down the corridor I can hear the screams growing louder-they are still faint enough to almost be mistaken for the wind howling about the manor-almost, but not quite. I know them for what they are. Somebody somewhere in the house is screaming, and I don't know how or why, or where Val is, and my mind shies away from putting those two ideas together-I just can't accept it.

And then footsteps-my first instinct is to turn and run, but I force myself to stand my ground-it's only Val coming up the stairs, and this is my own home. I will not be cowed. I stand straight there on the landing in my nightdress, fierce and determined, as he comes round the corner in all his angelic beauty, but the shadows curl about him as if to welcome a demon. He stops short at the sight of me.

"Jocelyn!" he says in surprise. "What are you doing out of bed?"

I lift my chin. "I heard screaming from somewhere," I say defensively. "What about you?"

"I heard it, too," he tells me now. "I wet out to investigate but I think it must have just been the wind. Come on. Let's go back to bed." I smile and nod, taking his hand-but then I see it, and it takes all my self-control not to scream, to hit him, to run, because small and dark on the sleeve of his shirt is a little round bloodstain, as if he brushed against somebody wounded, and I know well that it wasn't there when we went to bed.

…

"And it's not the first night I've heard screams, either," I finish. "I thought I'd just been dreaming, but now…"

I'm sitting opposite Lucian in the small kitchen of his house near Alicante; he lives alone and only keeps a small cottage: I think he never felt the need for anything fancier. It's warm here, and comfortable, and safe, and I'm sitting at the table with my hands clasped before me, and I've just told him everything. It seems like nothing but a lot of stupid nameless panics out loud, but I know what I heard and saw that night, and I know what I'm starting to see in Val's eyes. I know the dark fear within me at the sight of him. Something is wrong.

Lucian doesn't laugh at me, though. He stares gravely into my eyes and he trusts me with all his heart-he's always been able to do that, always been able to make me feel all right with just a glance, always been my truest friend. Now he reaches over the table and takes my cold hand in his.

"Jocelyn," he says intently. "I don't think Valentine can be…doing what you think he's doing. But you're right that it's not all right-remember what I said, about the Circle? I mean-I _trust_ Valentine, he's my best friend, after you. But recently I've noticed…another side to him. I guess you're seeing it too. A darkness? Like sometimes he doesn't care how terrible the things he does can be…"

I can't believe we're sitting here, discussing my husband, almost plotting against him, in Lucian's warm flagstoned kitchen that smells so sweetly of herbs, in such quiet, practical voices. I want to scream out, say no, stop, don't tell me this, let me carry on believing, don't tear me apart-but I can't, because this could be bigger and more terrible than I can imagine, and I need to understand, no matter how badly it hurts.

"Yes," I say shakily. "I know what you mean."

"I'll talk to him," Lucian says determinedly, and I cry out. "No!"

"Why not? It's best to get this out in the open."

"No, Lucian, he's…he could be…he could…I don't…"

He grips my hand tighter. "Jocelyn, it'll be all right," he insists, his blue eyes wide and earnest on my face. "He's still Valentine, still our friend. We can't be afraid of him. I'll be careful, I won't give too much away."

And what can I say? That the evil I'm learning to see I my husband is deeper than any doubts he may have about the Circle? That he's too trusting, too sweet and innocent to ever understand? That the darkness I sense in this world is so much more intense than he could ever fear? He wouldn't believe me, couldn't, because he's Lucian. If I told him Val was evil, that I could see it in my eyes, he'd only pity the both of us more than ever.

I can only hope, and pray, and fear the future.

**Please leave me a review, I'll try and get the next chapter up quicker!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is really Luke's story. I haven't described everything that happens, as I didn't want to just rewrite the book, but certain key phases of the story are here. It's his POV all the way through, I hope you like it!**

Chapter 4:

**Lucian's POV:**

"So essentially my wife is having nightmares and childbirth fears and she asked _you_ to come and talk to _me_ about them," Valentine states matter-of-factly. I shake my head, somehow unwilling to meet his eyes. I blame this room for unsettling me; I've always hated it. It's the parlour of the Morgenstern manor and it's dark as night, the heavy, dusty curtains that block out the sunlight a deep maroon colour, the two long velvet sofas blood red. A small scarlet lamp burns from the varnished centre of a shining mahogany table, casting still bloodier shadows all about the room. It makes me feel trapped, oppressed, almost as if I've been shoved into some immense, warped womb.

"She didn't want me to say anything. I just thought we should get everything out in the open…"

Valentine smiles broadly, stretching himself out across one of the bloody sofas. "Well, you did the right thing, Lucian. I'd hate for anything to get between Jocelyn and me, especially now so near the birth of our child…"

"So d'you know what the screaming she heard could have been?" I ask tentatively. It barely seems to make sense now, our fears-here actually being with Valentine, this man our friend and leader, so confident and pure. Oh, we know he can be dogmatic, driven, maybe a little _too_ ruthless. But what Jocelyn feared? No, we were wrong. I can _feel_ that we were wrong in the very power and truth of his aura. Nobody else has a _presence_ like Valentine's.

Valentine sighs deeply and folds his hands behind his head. "_What_ screaming, Lucian? I heard nothing more than a few cats mewling outside that night-I can't but believe that all she's suffering from is nightmares. Women's minds and bodies do strange things when they're pregnant, I'm told."

What if he's right? I'm thinking. I feel…wrong, as if I've somehow betrayed Jocelyn by entertaining such ideas, but really what else could be true? She _is_ pregnant, she _is_ under a lot of stress, and exactly what did she fear anyway? Shadows, noises in the night, dark eyes narrowed the wrong way. What _could_ Valentine have been doing? It all seems so far-fetched now, and I smile a little guiltily as it sinks in.

"I guess you're right," I concede. "I'm sorry. But you know what it's like, when somebody's afraid, you have to help them…"

"Of course, of course," he agrees. "It's a comfort to me that my wife has someone like you she can always rely on if I'm not around. Someone that _I_ can rely on. I've always been able to trust you, Lucian, more than the others-you've always been my closest friend, after Jocelyn." He grins. "My best lieutenant. I'd like to think that you feel you can tell me anything."

And I'm honoured-I feel the pride surging up in my soul like light. I was never as great a Shadowhunter as Jocelyn, as Valentine…they were the ones that gave me a place in this world, and they are the ones I'll always love, second only to my own family. Valentine is like a brother to me, and I can't believe I ever doubted him. Jocelyn…well, that's different. I'll never stop regretting that I couldn't be the one to hold her, to love her like he does: I'll never see them together without that pang of pain and jealousy. But I'm not equal to someone like her, not worthy of her, and knowing that I guess I'm happy that she found somebody she could love like that, somebody who I know will always love and protect and support her. It's the next best thing to having her myself, knowing that she's so happy with him, and being able to trust him to merit that. Maybe someday it'll help me stop hurting over it.

This kind of acceptance that Valentine shows me now-it makes me feel strong, alive, powerful.

"Likewise," I say. "You can always count on me, Valentine, you know that. But I still think it's worth keeping an eye on the manor, just in case. I'll be on my guard, and if you and Jocelyn are too then after a few nights I'd assume that she'll feel safer soon enough. Maybe we should take a look around the woods outside the manor or something."

His smile has vanished-his eyes are dark, serious, brooding-almost angry, but I'm not sure. "I don't think that will be necessary. I'm certain there's nothing to worry about, Lucian."

I shrug. "Best to the on the safe side, though?" I can almost hear Jocelyn laughing: she always called me too cautious, too methodical, too nervous about these things…and then I can almost _see_ her laughing, throwing back at her head so that her long flaming hair flies out like a banner, her white throat exposed, her vibrant emerald eyes crinkled up and flashing with joy. I shake off the vision: by the Angel, it's this man's _wife_ I'm fantasising about! "For her sake?"

"Maybe…incidentally, Lucian, there are rumours of some untoward werewolf activity in the forest, and I was planning to go and check it out tomorrow night. I'd like it if you came with me."

The sudden change of subject is not lost on me. I frown-I feel as if I'm shaking free of some kind of heavy cloying influence, and I realise suddenly that he seems shifty, uneasy, as if he's hiding something. I almost open my mouth to point it out-but something stops me, locks my words within me. Quite abruptly I'm no longer as trusting, and I could have been facing an enemy. I look away, puzzled by the bridling wariness within.

"Sure," I say: my voice seems to come from far, far away, as if it belongs to someone else, but I'm amazed at how casual and ordinary it seems. "What exactly do we have on them?"

"Oh, just rumours," Valentine says airily. "It'll be just a routine patrol but I think it's best to have a look. Meet me here at nine hours and we can ride up together?" I sense that the interview is over: my parabatai is a busy man. The Angel only knows how busy.

"I'll be there," I say and get up. "Thanks for listening to me."

"Any time," he says warmly. "I'm glad we had the opportunity for this chat, Lucian, I really am. It's clarified a lot. It's you who should be thanked."

…

Darkness. Shadows. The spikes of skeletal trees. Valentine at my side lays a hand on my arm, stilling me. We listen. Movement. Rustling through the leaves. Far away, a long, drawn-out howl. Many miles from here. I glance at him, signalling _safe_. He shakes his head, angel face intent, all cold white planes and ice-he senses something. Silence-we're still as stone, tense as taut bowstrings. My hand on the crossbow is steady, the silver tip of the bolt glinting in the faint penetrating moonlight. We won't need it, though, he's assured me of that. Just a routine patrol.

It only takes seconds. A rush of darkness and sound, a screeching howl. Valentine yells my name as something cannons into me, bowling me over-I fall awkwardly and my head strikes stone, so that stars explode behind my eyes. An immense blinding, choking weight crashes onto me, writhing, thrashing, slavering. "Valentine!" I scream hopelessly. The crossbow twangs and there's an angry wolf squeal-not injured. He missed. Desperately I struggle, all I can see is the bristling fur as the monster smothers me, the glint of the fangs, all I can hear the beast's snarling and the rasping of my own breath as I'm borne to the ground-closer, closer, yellow fangs and stinking hot breath obliterating the whole world-

Pain blasts through my shoulder and I yell in agony, feeling my body buck upwards with the shock-I've never known anything like it, can't _take_ it, can't handle it-I feel the teeth clamp together inside my flesh and I scream again as they grind through muscle and tendon, then drag clear, horribly slowly, through the shattered layers of my body. There's blood everywhere, black in the darkness, and disgust and horror fill my heart, I barely know why any more, can't think... I can hear Valentine's laboured breathing interspersed with thuds and yelps as he struggles with the wolf, hauls it back off me-another wet snick and the night goes silent. The beast crashes to the fallen leaves, shaking the earth and I wonder muzzily if a rift is opening up beneath us, a rift I'm drifting down... I rock back into darkness. A face looms above me, jet black eyes shining with some nameless emotion, though the features are twisted in definite concern.

"Lucian!" a voice is calling. "Lucian, _no_, speak to me! Stay with me!"

I can't speak, can't place the black-eyed angel face above me, don't know anything except the pain, and the cold freezing my bones, and the world disintegrates into a million sparkling diamonds. The rift takes me.

…..

I'm awake, moving. No-I'm _on_ something that's moving for me. The rhythmic rocking motion and rough warmth tells me it's a horse, I'm riding a horse. How did I get here? I try to move and intense pain splits through me-I gasp and sway, but somebody seated behind me steadies me, leans me against the horse's warm, pungent neck, squeezes my uninjured shoulder in comfort.

"Take it easy, Lucian," a familiar, velvety voice whispers. "It's not too late, not yet. Hold on."

I fall away again, beyond his reach. The world is made up of blood and pain and darkness, and I prefer to dream…

…

The waiting is the worst. All these past three weeks, just the waiting is what's been killing me. Now I sit here in my room awaiting my ultimate reckoning, huddled on the floor with my head in my hands, just so I don't see the moon rise, the great sweeping white curves of a full moon that will spell my salvation or utter devastation. I'm hyperventilating, dare not look up, can't breathe, can't speak. Jocelyn wanted to be with me but Valentine reminded her about the baby, about the _danger_, and she agreed to stay away. She should. I don't know if I could face her if my worst fears come true.

And what if I hurt her-No!

It'll happen. I won't get lucky. There's no way I could have escaped. I'll turn tonight, I know I will, I can feel it. I'll turn and I'll lose everything.

Will Jocelyn abandon me, if I turn? If I really am a werewolf? She's been at my side all these past weeks, my constant supporter, my staunch ally, disregarding caution and gossip and fear, telling me I'll be all right, she'll be there for me, I won't turn. But could I do that to her? Ruin her life? Mark her out as the Shadowhunter with werewolf affiliations? It'd destroy her marriage with Valentine, I know it would, Valentine who's barely said a word to me since it happened, since I was bitten, whether out of guilt or because he can't stand the idea of his best friend becoming a hated Downworlder I don't know. It doesn't matter.

Still nothing. All is dark around me, completely still and quiet. I want to look up, want to be sure. Has the moon risen? Is my time passed? Am I, after all, one of the lucky ones? My heart is pounding-how long has it been? When will I know for sure if I'm free? I raise my head gradually, shoving the untidy brown hair out of my face. The moon gleams through the open window, white and round and triumphant, but there is no answering call within myself. I take an astonished breath of cold air, feeling a wild giddy euphoria surging up in my heart. I'm free? I'm not a werewolf? I didn't turn? I can't believe it, can't believe that the Angel would so bless me, that I could be so lucky…that I'm free!

And then the first pang of purest agony that splits my very core in half, and the moon blurs to blood red in my tortured vision, mocking me as I double over, as my body twists and warps itself beyond recognition, as my scream echoes through the night and morphs nightmarishly into an inhuman howl. I barely have time to register what's happening before my world goes dark.

…

I ache. I ache so badly I can barely stand. I stagger towards the manor, naked but for a shepherd's cloak I found lying abandoned in a field, falling to my hands and knees more times than I can count, destroyed. I'm numb and shivering with cold, my feet bleeding-my hands too are bloody, and my face, though it isn't my blood, and the winter is so bitter that the redness has frozen and cracked against my skin. I can't even bear to contemplate what it must mean, that something, some life, some beating heart, has perished, fallen to the wolf. The wolf. The wolf has killed tonight. I have killed tonight.

I am the wolf.

A new kind of pain-heartbreak-breaks like a wave through me but I fight through it, fixing my eyes on the turrets of the Morgenstern manor ahead through the trees. I barely understand why I'm making for it: it's because inside it is Jocelyn, my only friend, the only one I can trust; and Valentine, who will judge me as he sees fit. His judgement I will accept, whatever it is, however harsh, however dark and however terrible.

Would he still cast me off? His friend? His brother?

He's standing on the front steps when I come stumbling up the shining drive to the house, as if he knew I would come here, waiting for me. He's straight and tall and invincible, like a god, his silver-white hair glinting in the early winter sunlight like a halo, his face immobile and stern as marble, his arms folded across his chest, dressed in black Shadowhunter gear, belt bedecked with weapons. An unsheathed sword burns in the light-silver. My breath catches as I stare up at him, understanding. I come to a staggering halt before him, shaking, pleading silently, defeated. My eyes meet his, meet that merciless jet-black stare. I know what my fate will be.

I almost welcome it.

**As you can see, not everything is included, but the main parts are. I didn't include the actual fight with Valentine, all I would have achieved would be rewriting that part of City of Bones, and I don't want to do that. There will be one more chapter of this story, quite short I imagine, basically an epilogue, to come. **

**Reviews are inspiration!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This is the last chapter of the story and it's short because it's really a kind of epilogue, describing Jonathan's birth. So spoilers for City of Glass, if it bothers anyone out there!**

Chapter 5:

**Jocelyn's POV:**

I surface slowly through the haze of drugs and sedatives, fighting my way upwards through mist and confusion. I hate it-hate not knowing where I am, not being in control, but even this is better than the pain I remember…

Why? Why was I hurting?

My mind backlashes. Lucian-shoved down on his knees before Val, the broken, haunted, destroyed look in those blue eyes that are the lights of my childhood. Valentine's silent desperate sternness when he told me that Lucian had killed himself. My first and best friend, spun from the world like a star winking out. I cried for days after learning it.

I don't really remember ever stopping crying. I must have, I know. But looking back over the second half of my pregnancy, after losing Lucian, all I can see is the long nights of darkness and depression and loneliness, tormented by nightmares, waking yelling and crying, hearing babies screaming for me, pain like poison eating away at my heart, my soul, _my womb_. I remember trying to talk to my child, trying to believe in him, or her, and failing, and hating myself for failing. I remember wanting only to die. Val holding me close and then driving a knife into my heart-no-that was only a nightmare. I was sick, depressed-I can no longer distinguish terrible dream from empty, torturous reality. And then the first pangs of childbirth, my waters breaking. And pain…

_Yes_. That's why I'm here in the mist. That's where the pain came from. Birth. My child is born. I fight the harder, harder than I've fought for months-I haven't cared about anything like this for months. Suddenly I have to see my child, clasp it in my arms and know that it was all for something, that I've created this life and suffered for it, and that a tiny portion of my soul, the purest and strongest part, is reborn and rejuvenated. The new life of my baby is new life for me, as well-new hope. I fight-I break free. I open my eyes and the sunlight blinds me.

"Where is he-she?" I croak. "Give me my baby-"

Maryse, now Lightwood, bends into my field of vision as I blink the lines of blurring and sedative-dream from my eyes. She's smiling broadly-she never smiles. She's holding something in her arms, a bundle of blankets. The sight fills me with an unreasoning desperation.

"It's a boy," she tells me, beaming. "And he's perfect. You did it, Jocelyn. Well done."

I hold out my arms, wordless. An intense and throbbing joy lifts within me, the most life I've felt in so long-I think I'm in heaven, I think I've been reborn. I haven't felt alive like this for…if I can just look into my little boy's eyes and fell his heartbeat against me I'll know that the world is all right, on track, that there's hope for the future. That my life was worth something. The bundle is placed in my arms-I feel the weight and warmth through them and my heart leaps wildly. My boy. My son. He moves in his blankets and I feel the tears of ecstasy overflow-he's alive, he's mine, I did this, I created this true vibrant life-I can't believe it. My boy-Gingerly I pull back the folds of blanket from across his face. He seems asleep, eyes tight shut, his little pink face clenched and wrinkled with the effort of coming into the world, screwed up against the light, so real and so beautiful he takes my breath away. A delicate swirl of pale, silvery hair adorns the crown of his little head and it's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen.

My little boy…

He senses my touch, maybe feels my heartbeat pulsing through his own body, joining us once more. He stirs, gives a kind of sleepy baby murmur. My soul laughs and cries at once with amazement and all-consuming joy, but I'm quiet, sombre, only intensely gently glad. "Hey there, my little one," I croon to him. "Are you waking up? My only, my beautiful boy…wake up for me, open up your little eyes…"

His eyes crack, then open fully. It's like being punched in the stomach. I gasp- I think I'm bleeding. Dying. Falling. This isn't right. Everything within me tells me this is just a nightmare, that this isn't my child, that something is intensely, perversely wrong here, with the world, with the natural order. Those black eyes stare up like the hollow chasms of a skull, something long dead, something fearfully alien, something that never should have been. There's no soul there, no life, no humanity, nothing at all but malice. In a child so innocent and delicate it's like poison, it's so perverted, so warped, so wrong it takes my breath away, makes me want to retch. No. No. No. This isn't happening. This is not my child, not my son. There's been some kind of mistake. This isn't possible. This is wrong. I sag back-Maryse swoops in and jerks that horrible thing out of my arms, rocking it gently. No, I want to say, no, put it down, throw it away, it isn't right…but I can't speak, can barely breathe. Inside I'm screaming, but I can't make a sound.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she coos, face alight with smiles. I stare blankly-can't she _see_? Doesn't she _notice_?

No. She sees nothing. Maybe only a mother can feel it-only a mother, who should feel the strongest and purest bond, can sense and suffer that horrific curse. It kills me-grief and disgust implode my unstable heart but I can't even move to relieve that innermost agony. And all I can think is of my dreams, my nightmares, the horrors I suffered throughout my pregnancy, and how it's all come true and the world has fallen apart beneath my feet, my soul has shattered, and nobody else can feel it, no-one else can feel the evil and wrongness, just carrying on, dancing along with empty mask smiles plastered to their blind faces, leaving me alone to face the worst horrors of all.

And all I can think-God-Val-you did this.

You did this to me. You did this to my child.

By the Angel, Val-_what did you do to us_?

**Well, there it is, hope it didn't disappoint and I guess everybody knows what happens next! Please review this last chapter and let me know what you thought!**

**Thanks so much to those who reviewed and stuck with me!**

**Anna**


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